Morning didn't drift into the room with soft light; it came with a cold, sharp realization: she was still alive. Eni rose from the bed, feeling a strange lightness. The fever that had burned her from within just yesterday had vanished, leaving only a ringing emptiness in her head.

  She began to dress slowly, almost ritually. First, the undergarments, then the stockings. The violet fabric glided softly over her skin, tightly gripping her thighs. "What strange clothing..." she whispered into the emptiness of the house, her fingers touching her thighs with an almost tender curiosity. "In violet shades... and so sexy."

  Eni paused, looking at her legs. In this world where dragons tear the sky and lava flows instead of streams, her outfit felt like a bold challenge to reality itself. She loved this feeling. She loved how tightly the fabric fit, how it constrained her movements, reminding her of every step.

  She reached for her tunic, lying on the edge of the bed. Her gaze caught on the torn hole in the sleeve near her forearm—the mark of the blue spider's jaws. The fabric was stiff, stained with dried venom and dirt. Instinctively, Eni pressed her palm against the spot where a gaping, rotting wound should have been.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Under her fingers, there was only smooth, cold skin.

  Eni froze, holding her breath. She ran her hand over her forearm several times, as if hoping to find at least a scar, at least a hint of pain. Nothing. Only flawless skin, devoid of any mark. A cold, sticky tension seized her shoulders. The thought she had been pushing away all this time finally formed into clear knowledge: she was not human. At least, not anymore. Everything in this world was unnatural, and she had become part of that unnaturalness.

  Silently putting on her tunic and fastening all the buttons, Eni sat back down on the bed. The weight of the axe by the wall and the gleam of the amulet around her neck gave her confidence, but another object waited in her pocket. She took out the stone "eye." Cold, heavy, with an empty socket in the center.

  She didn't know how to use it. But the moment her fingers touched the central hollow, the stone responded. It didn't just glow—it seemed to drink the silence of the room.

  "Another demigod wanders this forgotten land..." The voice was low, majestic, and lifeless all at once. It didn't come from the stone. It came from everywhere: from the corners of the house, from the rustle of wheat outside the window, from the very fabric of the air. "Allow me to accompany you on your journey... Perhaps you will succeed where others have failed..."